Part VI: (Gold)Dust and Bones
Jandyr walked down the corridor with a smug smile on his face. "How does he do it?" asked Trogdar, his hands badly blistered and bandaged. Jandyr almost felt like breaking into a song as he strode at the head of the group. "Luck of the Elves my Barbarian friend," coughed Short-arse, still recovering from the effects of the poison gas she had released. Jandyr looked down into the pouch of gold he had collected, a few hundred there to add to the stash he reckoned. "If only he weren't so damn cocky about it," Trogdar complained, picking at one of the blisters as it burst and wincing in pain. The battle had gone well for Jandyr, he had been hiding his skill with a blade from the others at first so as not to appear too different from them, but when the Skeleton horde rose at the summons of their Wight King he had no intention of joining the undead ranks. His blade whirled and sang as it twisted through the air, separating bony skulls from bodies, leaving spinal cords protruding like flower stems missing their petalled heads. "GEDDIMAWAYFROMMEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" Trogdar had been on edge for most of their sojourn through the crypt, but the appearance of the ancient warrior had finally pushed him over. He flailed his new found sword wildly, slashing at skeletons and companions alike... mostly companions. “Get HIM away from ME!” complained Jandyr as a deep cut opened in his arm where the flailing Barbarian struck him. Realising this was a turning point in the battle, from a dark corner of the room the Wizard suddenly drew himself up to his full height and, in a remarkably clear tone, said, "Foul creature from the abyss, know that you face thy mortal foe and have met thy doom!" With a flourish, he reached into his robes and produced a dusty old scroll. Taking a quick glance to remind himself of the magic incantation, he said aloud, "I shall play the Hand of Death Scroll." "How is a Hand of Death scroll meant to work against something Undead?" muttered Short-arse as she hacked at the legs of a skeletal warrior. A loud crack reverberated around the small chamber and all eyes both hale and hollow turned to the Wight King. Fractures had appeared along most of his bones and several of his ribs had started to splinter outwards, yet despite the powerful magic, something was still holding the vile creature together. Using dark magic to will himself onwards, the Wight King slowly raised his head to stare at the Wizard with bright blue orbs. "Errrr?" said the Wizard. "CHARRRRRRRGE!" screamed Short-arse, closest to the King and, surprisingly, first to react. Running as fast as her short legs could carry her, she raised her great axe aloft as she closed the distance. The Wight King turned monumentally slowly towards the rampaging Dwarf, holding his black sword low across his body ready for a decapitating strike. "Aaaaargh!" Short-arse screamed as she tripped over her beard at the last second, barrelling into the Wight and smashing him to smithereens before he could react. Without their King to command them, the other skeletons quickly collapsed into bones. "Did we win?" asked Trogdar, removing his hand from his eyes at the lull in sound of battle. "In a manner of speaking," replied Jandyr, trying hard not to burst into laughter. "THAT IS IT!" screamed Short-arse, "I WILL NOT BEAR THIS AXE AGAIN UNTIL I AM FIT FOR PURPOSE. BY MY BEA... BY MY ANCESTORS I SWEAR IT!" She purposefully shouldered her great axe and exchanged it for the axe she had taken from the body of Ungrun Grunsson. The other Warriors stood and stared at this outburst for a second. "Right-o," said Trogdar, "let's have a look in here shall we? Looks like some sort of storeroom." Jandyr had wandered over to the sarcophagus and was hastily filling a small pouch. "Gold, Gold! MINE!" screamed the Wizard in sudden realisation, running across the room. "All yours," agreed Jandyr, side-stepping as the Wizard charged into the open sarcophagus, the lid closing neatly behind him. There was a cry and a muffled thump. "To the storeroom then?" said Jandyr to Short-arse. Short-arse looked up at the Elf and smiled, "Aye, why not!" As the Elf and Dwarf strode off to the increasingly panicking sounds of thumps against wood, they heard a scream from the storeroom ahead, "Aaaaargh! I should've checked for traps!"